


Beauty and the Beast

by junko



Series: Senbonzakura's Song [15]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 15:33:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1555385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byakuya agrees on a raiding party into the Rukongai with Kenpachi Zaraki and almost instantly regrets it...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beauty and the Beast

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Josey (cestus) who helped with/wrote parts of the fight scene (without her, it would just be, "and then, afterwards...").

Though he could barely admit it to himself, Byakuya found it oddly thrilling to be striding along the corridors of the Kuchiki mansion with the Kenpachi at his side—even though the gigantic moron couldn’t seem to remember to duck. More than once he’d knocked his head into the doorframes. Each new room came with a bang, the clanging of bells, and a long rant about how ‘people should make their goddamn doors bigger!’

By the time Zaraki threatened to just cut his own ‘fucking door,’ the thrill had diminished significantly.

Byakuya’s pleasure was further lowered at the sight of Zaraki’s two hangers-on loitering at the gate: the Eleventh’s Third and Fifth Seats, Ikkaku Madarame and Yumichika Ayasegawa.

The pair glanced up at their captain’s approach. Ikkaku gave a brief, if surprised, nod at Byakuya, and then fell into step behind Zaraki. A proper soldier, Byakuya decided, perhaps worthy of Renji’s apprenticeship with him, after all. Yumichika, on the other hand, took one look at Byakuya and sneered. He made a little ‘x’ with his hands and whined, “Why is he coming?”

Kenpachi laughed. “I thought you’d be all about the extra ‘beauty.’”

With a delighted squeal, Yachiru launched herself off her usual spot on Zaraki’s shoulders. In a surprisingly light and agile move, she attached herself to Byakuya’s, clinging to him like a baby monkey. She grabbed a fistful of Byakuya’s hair and yanked it around, as she announced: “Pretty Bya-chan is going to play with us!”

This made Yumichika smirk and, apparently, decide Byakuya was allowed to join their adventure because he finally shrugged and fell into step beside his partner.

Byakuya found that every interaction with Yumichika left him disliking the Fifth Seat more and more. What was the point of him? He didn’t even seem particularly strong. Glancing back at the way Ikkaku leaned into Yumichika as they walked along the street, Byakuya decided perhaps Yumichika served some other purpose.

Which only made Byakuya flash to the memory of finding Renji sprawled, naked, on top of both Yumichika and Ikkaku.

“Are you mad, Byakki?” Yachiru asked, clambering over Byakuya’s head to try to peer into his face. “You made a grumpy sound.”

Byakuya could feel the kenseikan pulling his hair askew, but, noticing Zaraki’s curious look, Byakuya said, “Of course not. I’m just anxious to begin.”

“Really?” Zaraki smirked. “You’re more bloodthirsty than I would have thought!”

“I’m certain I’m many more things than you can possibly imagine,” Byakuya countered.

Zaraki snorted. “Imagination isn’t really my strong suit.” He lifted his head as if testing the wind. “Now, which way looks promising?”

Gods, Byakuya had almost forgotten about Zaraki’s complete lack of direction sense. No way was he going to spend the day mindlessly lost with these barbarians.

“Follow me,” Byakuya said, and took off in a flash, not bothering to check to see if they could keep up. It was only when Yachiru pulled hard enough on his hair that he felt a chain of the kenseikan snap did Byakuya remember that Zaraki never used shunpō. In fact, it was rumored he couldn’t, not at all.

Byakuya stepped out of flash on a rooftop near the White Way Gate. He opened his mouth, ready to apologize to Yachiru and turn back, when out of nowhere stumbled Yumichika and Ikkaku. Between them, they held the dizzy, blinking form of Zaraki. Pulling himself from his subordinates, Zaraki shook himself out and said, “What the fuck? We’re not even out in the Rukongai yet. Who the hell we fighting here, Kuchiki? Jidanbō?!”

So many irritated and angry responses flitted through Byakuya’s head, that he felt it most prudent to simply turn on his heels and flash away.

Seemingly satisfied that Zaraki would find a way to keep up, Yachiru held on to strands of Byakuya’s hair like the reins of a horse and shouted, “Yippee! Giddy-up!”

Byakuya made sure to move slowly enough that the two idiots in charge of hauling their captain along could keep up. It felt like he was moving in painfully deliberate slow motion, but Byakuya used the opportunity to cast his senses out into the Rukongai, searching.

Ignoring the bright flashes here and there, he concentrated on anything captain-level... or higher. It was possible, in fact, that there was an actual captain out here somewhere: Gin or Tōsen or possibly even Kyōraku, who might be on the trail of the same thing… that thing, being Aizen’s creatures, the Arrancar.

Byakuya had no idea what Arrancar reiatsu would be like. The Twelfth Division was, as usual, oddly cagey about sharing its information. However, having watched the fights in the Human World, Byakuya suspected they must be very strong. Unlike the three captains, all masters in their own way of shadow and subterfuge, the Arrancar struck Byakuya as the sort whose reiatsu would stand out like a bonfire in the darkness, pouring out wastefully, wantonly.

Perhaps, given the influence of hōgyoku, their reiatsu would even have an alien, unnaturally boosted cast to it, like… yes, there, just to the east.

Stepping out of shunpō, Byakuya touched down at the edge of one of the border areas between districts.

He wasn’t sure how far he’d come, but nothing grew in the barren field that stretched for miles. A series of shabby row houses could be seen in the distance, but the air still smelled fresh. Bright afternoon sun had baked the ground beneath Byakuya’s sandals into a hard pack, cracked with dryness.

The trees of the border were forbiddingly massive, their canopies interlacing to cast deep shadows. Byakuya knew instantly where his target was. Just over the line, inside the band of trees, a structure had been built. Despite the deep, gloomy darkness that surrounded it, the building looked warm and welcoming. There were lit lanterns hung on the rafter beams, casting a soft, warm glow on the wooden porch, and a line of small lanterns lit a stone path, as if beckoning the weary traveler inside.

The building itself was long and single-storied, looking for all the world like a training dojo.

The nerve of Aizen, Byakuya thought as he made his way toward the lit path, to blatantly flaunt the rules and build an illegal training facility in a place like this—inside the border, where it was forbidden to even enter. And, thus, annoyingly clever, since only someone with sufficient reiatsu could pass even three feet beyond the district’s kidō-bound border before passing out.

Just then Zaraki and his ‘support team’ roared out of flash step, barreling into a stumbling run. “God damn it,” Zaraki said, as though continuing a rant he’d had going for some time, “I said stand and fight already. All this chasing around is making my head hurt!”

“I’ve found the enemy,” Byakuya said, indicating the dojo. He felt Yachiru leap off his back to her preferred perch.

She said cheerfully, “Byakkiis so fast! And we didn’t get lost at all!”

“You sure? Just where the fuck are we, Kuchiki?”

“I counted,” Yumichika sniffed as though exceedingly pleased for having thought to do so. “Forty-seventh district south.”

“What? It’s forty-eight,” Ikkaku said. “I’m sure I counted forty-eight.”

“No, we had to stop and back-track, remember?” Yumichika insisted. His voice going low, “After we lost him that one time…”

“Bored now!” Zaraki announced loudly. “Where’s the villain, then? Yoo-hoo! Anybody home? Come out, come out, whoever you are!”

As if in response, the door of the dojo slid open and Kaien Shiba beamed out at them.

Despite half-expecting this imposter, Byakuya still took in a sharp hiss of breath at the sight, especially when Kaien waved cheerfully. “No Rukia today, Byakuya? Pity, I’d love to see her again.” Then Kaien laughed, almost self-deprecatingly, and added, “We have some unfinished business, wouldn’t you say?”

The voice was perfect. The expressions, too. And, the little dig about Kaien’s death at Rukia’s hands? What exactly was this thing? It wasn’t possible, was it that somehow this really was the man Rukia had thought she killed?

Beside him, Zaraki stopped his advance toward the dojo to ask, “Ain’t that the Shiba lieutenant? He’s alive? Is this why Ukitake never replaced him?”

Yachiru clapped her hands, “Oh, Snowflake will be so happy!”

“Shiba’s been AWOL a long fucking time,” Ikkaku noted, scratching the back of his head at this turn of events. “You’d think he’d have told people not to hold his funeral. There was a lot of crying. Good food, though, I remember that.”

Yumichika’s hand dropped to his sword and he shook his head, “This isn’t the same man. This one… _tastes_ a lot stronger.”

It irritated Byakuya no end that Yumichika had been the one to see through the disguise so quickly. If he closed his eyes to the haunting face, Byakuya could easily feel that while spiritual pressure of this ‘Kaien’ was…watery, yes, it was far stronger than the Shiba had been in life. This was, in fact, the very alien reiatsu that Byakuya had sensed.

Somehow, Aizen had made an Arrancar with Kaien Shiba’s face. That was a crime against the True First clans. One Byakuya would personally see righted.

“Stronger? Thank the fucking gods for that,” Kenpachi muttered.

Byakuya and Zaraki drew their zanpakutō at the same time. 

“Yay, a fight!” Yachiru squealed happily.

The Kaien imposter, at least, had the sense to look nervous and retreat back inside his dojo.

#

All three of the morons barrelled into the building after the Arrancar, Yachiru squealing with joy on Zaraki’s shoulder, leaving Byakuya staring after them with a sudden visceral understanding of where Renji’s weakness in battle strategy came from. 

With a disgusted huff, Byakuya followed them more slowly, already hearing the dull thumps and bangs that accompanied any sort of close-quarters sword fight. Or at least those between thugs with no finesse. 

A particularly loud crack brought dust pattering down from the porch ceiling. The doors ahead of Byakuya suddenly exploded outwards and only a timely flash-step prevented him being mown down by Ikkaku as he flew past and straight out through the external wall. His exit heralded even more creaking and the building’s frame shuddered. 

Much more of this and the idiots would bring the entire structure down on their own heads. 

“Bastard!” came Zaraki’s bellow from further in. “Stop running around. Stand and fucking fight!”

Despite the doors being gone, it was impossible to see what was actually happening inside the dojo. It was far too dark - and, of course, thanks to Zaraki, filled with dust. Even if Byakuya felt inclined to help, it would be difficult to wield a released Senbonzakura in such conditions, and Byakuya didn’t feel suicidal enough to wade into the battle without its protection. No doubt Zaraki made no distinction between friend and foe when he was fighting.

While Byakuya was pondering his next move, Ikkaku shot past him back into the fray, presumably having less sense of self-preservation. Or perhaps more accurately, less sense. The man had, after all, served under Zaraki for enough years to thoroughly drive every scrap of reason from his head.

Truly, it was a good thing Renji had come to the Sixth when he had. Another decade or two and he might have been completely unsalvageable.

“Bastard!”

A massive flare of reiatsu was accompanied by the sort of noise only ever heard before major structural failure and, this time, more than dust pattered down. Somewhere came the distinct sound of falling wood and tile. Byakuya cast the roof a single concerned glance and decided enough was most definitely enough.

“Scatter, Senbonzakura.” 

As the sword shattered apart, the building’s roof finally gave up its unequal struggle against Zaraki’s reiatsu and collapsed, only Byakuya’s quick thinking, enclosing them all in a bubble of wood-shredding blade-petals, preventing anyone being lost under the rubble. 

Anyone, of course, including the arrancar. Who, now it was trapped, could be taken prisoner and put to question, perhaps finally revealing what role the traitors and the dead Kaien Shiba had in all this mess.

Except, as the dust cleared and daylight streamed in through the gaps between drunkenly hanging beams, Byakuya saw that, although the Arrancar was still there, Kaien’s face was gone. In its place was a creature that Mayuri would undoubtedly find fascinating; two shrunken and deformed heads floating in a tall jar of bubbling liquid; and behind the figure, the gaping maw of an open garganta. 

Byakuya wanted to say something, call some warning that their prize was about to escape, but before he could, the Arrancar turned and fled. The otherworldly door snapped shut behind it, and Zaraki’s final swing sliced nothing but air. 

Byakuya returned Senbonzakura to its sealed state. Ikkaku and Yumichika stood up straighter and echoed their captain’s bellowing complaint, “Where the fuck did he go?”

“Hueco Mundo, I suspect,” Byakuya said.

“I don’t think I even cut him,” Zaraki said. “That ticks me off.”

“Maybe, if we’d coordinated the attack, instead of you barreling in—“ Byakuya began.

“It ain’t my fault your prissy little pink zanpakutō isn’t a decent melee weapon.”

“My prissy little pink zanpakutō just saved you and your subordinates from being crushed under your massive incompetence.”

“We didn’t ask for no help,” Kenpachi sneered. His face was so close to Byakuya’s that his foul breath flapped on of the locks of Byakuya’s hair.

“Yeah!” Ikkaku and Yumichika chimed in, even though Byakuya was fairly certain that he heard Yumichika say something about how very pretty Senbonzakura had been, and so very wonderfully violent, too.

Byakuya pursed his lips together and said, “It’s a wonder you ever win a fight.”

That must have touched a particularly sensitive nerve, because Byakuya had to highspeed sidestep a blow from Zaraki’s zanpakutō. He unsheathed Senbonzakura in time to meet the second attack with a bone-rattling clang. “Oi, I heard that Ichigo punk beat you, too!”

“Only because he’d achieved bankai,” Byakuya said. Going into his spin move, he neatly sliced off a bell-topped spike of Zaraki’s hair. “He left you in the dirt long before he faced me.”

The anger disappeared from Zaraki’s face to be replaced by a too-wide, insane grin. “Oh, that’s it. I’m going to kill you so dead.”

“You can try,” Byakuya said, though he felt the sudden increase in Zaraki’s spiritual pressure slam into him like a hammer. Immediately, Byakuya considered his strategy. He would have to use bankai if he hoped to cut Zaraki’s rock hard skin with Senbonzakura’s multiple blades. That, however, seemed unsporting. He should be able to take down this barbarian without even going shikai…

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ikkaku and Yumichika settling in for the show. Ikkaku muttered, “If that princess ends up the Kenpachi, I’ll kill myself.”

“Have more faith,” Yumichika said, smacking his partner’s baldhead. “Besides, we won’t let that happen.”

Zaraki had just raised his zanpakutō to start when the rear door of the dojo slid open. “Stop fighting immediately, you impudent children!” 

The head captain? Byakuya finally tore his eyes away to double-check it wasn’t an illusion. Just then, through the doorway, slid the unmistakable figure of Captain Kyōraku, his hand on his sloped traveling hat and the hems of his pink kimono over his shoulder fluttering in the breeze. “What did I tell you, Old Man? Mr. Byakuya is well on the scent of our Arrancar dog. But,” Kyōraku let out one of his belly laughs, “Who would have expected he’d bring his friends along?”

In the distraction, Zaraki made a move, aiming at Byakuya’s neck. Twisting, Byakuya managed to get Senbonzakura up in time, though barely. A tiny strand of inky black hair drifted to the floor. 

“Heh,” Zaraki said, as if satisfied with this meager result. “Payback.”

“Your ledger has barely been scratched, Zaraki,” Byakuya replied.

Zaraki laughed. Crouching down, with his zanpakutō casually over his shoulder, he picked up the strand of hair and wagged it at Byakuya tauntingly. “This is pretty fucking satisfying, though. I may have to keep it as a souvenir.”

“Cherish it,” Byakuya said. “It’s the last thing you’ll get from me.”

Zaraki chuckled and Byakuya was certain he would’ve had a smart retort, except that the head captain cleared his throat. “You two will be heading to Hueco Mundo. Captain Kyōraku has briefed me on Aizen’s wanton invasion of the Rukongai and it’s time to strike back.”

“Finally,” Zaraki said, straightening up. “About fucking time.”

Though he said nothing, Byakuya couldn’t help but agree. The longer they waited, the longer Aizen had to plan for them. They’d already lost control over Kurosaki the moment his friend, Ms. Inoue, was taken. Why the head captain refused Renji’s sensible plan to provide official escort and support to Kurosaki, who everyone knew would move on his own no matter what the Soul Society said, Byakuya still didn’t understand. 

Which is why Byakuya had let Renji and Rukia go…

_Rukia_....

How would she cope with that Kaien-monster?

“Let’s go,” Byakuya agreed. “There’s no time to waste.


End file.
